Use By Date Exceeded
by ChampionTheWonderSnail
Summary: A response to a CMDA challenge 'A Flemeth in Hawke's Pocket'...so Hawke's forgotten to take that locket up the mountain...REALLY forgotten...


A/N: This short is in response to a challenge on the CMDA Forum "_A Flemeth in Hawke's Pocket_"…so what would happen if Hawke didn't take Flemeth's locket to Keeper Marethari straight away? What if he forgot? Or simply had too much on, couldn't leave the house until the roast was done…Too busy signing those contracts for those exclusive appearances at the local fish and chip shop…? Well, this is my take…

A mighty big thank you to _Roxfox1962_ for beta-ing-ing-ing.

World and characters belong to Bioware, folks!

-oo-

**Use by date exceeded…**

Arian sunk deeply into the time-softened leather of the high-backed chair, stretching long, grime-splattered legs across the rug. A merry fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace; the skin of his cheeks feeling scorched even at this distance. Sliding sideways, he threw a leg over one arm rest, one finger idly flicking at the end of his nose. _What a day…_

Glass clinked…the comforting sound of (hopefully) something alcoholic being dispensed into a tumbler…wet snuffling behind the chair…Arian frowned, even as the hoped-for beverage was presented to him. Brown eyes followed a path from the tumbler to the person at the end of it. The serviceable yet ornate cloth enclosing the sleeve stated '_I'm filthy rich…but well-armed…_'

"No rest for the wicked, eh Hawke?"

Throwing himself into an adjacent seat without losing a drop of his own drink, Varric sipped and sighed, tipping his head back in tired contentment. The dwarf's free hand idly stroked his overpowered crossbow on a cushioned ottoman beside him.

"You're slipping up, Wordsmith," Arian snorted, wondering whether he should suggest dwarf and crossbow find their own room... "We do happen to be resting right now."

"Until another storm of excreta hits this city," Varric told him with a smirk. "Oh how I love the sound of gold as it tinkles around our feet when that happens…"

"Guh…" Arian drained his tumbler in one long swallow, reserving a hearty choke and splutter for the very end. "Maker…" he rasped. "That was smooth." He allowed himself another round of coughing. "And I am officially retired," he added more steadily, less breathlessly. "Kirkwall can find some other well-armed stooge to solve their problems. I'm out. Finished. Not taking any more orders. Closing up shop. I've hung up the sign..."

_Snort…snrgh…krnch krnch…_

"Yeah, protest all you like Hawke," Varric said with a knowing wink. "You know the first sniff of trouble and you'll be in the thick of it. You can't help yourself."

"Coincidence," Arian growled. "It's not like I _ask _for trouble…It just tends to happen around me…"

_Snuffle shfshfshf…KRNCH…_

"Viscount…" Varric reminded him, in a tone of voice calculated to entice. "Extra puffy pants…more office space…"

Arian narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. "You run out of places to stash your stash already?"

"I'm just saying," Varric smiled winsomely, showing a single, diamond-capped tooth. "You get to be top of the pile in the city, now that – thanks to you – the position's vacant, it could be the best thing that ever happened to this place."

"Let me remind you," Arian growled, "I'm not the one who played t-ball with the Viscount's head and…"

_Snrgh shfshfshf…snrghle…krnch…_

Both men exchanged a look. "What the _frigate_…?" Arian muttered, straightening to look behind his chair. It was the dog, paws curled around a small object, worrying great pools of high quality mabari drool into the expensive, antique rug. "Anora…" Arian began. "What do you have there…? You didn't pick up bits of the Arishok to chew on, did you? Naughty dog! Give!"

In response to her master's firmly stated command, the mabari tossed the object up into the air and _snap…_promptly began to choke. Leaping to their feet, human and dwarf rushed to the mabari's side, Varric firing off suggestions more rapidly than his Bianca could release arrows.

"Roll her onto her side! No, Heimlich manoeuvre! Coma position!"

"She's a mabari, Varric, not a human being!" Arian snapped.

"Hey, you're the one that named her after the Queen of bloody Ferelden…"

"I was being patriotic!"

"_You_ told me it was because she was such a bi…"

_Hackackack...ulpppp…URRRPPPP…!_

Both men stood watching the mabari nervously as Anora swiped at her muzzle with a long, pink tongue. After a while, Arian noticed a bit of shine amongst the pools of drool at his dog's feet. Bending down, he extracted a chunky, woven silverite chain, holding it up for inspection.

"Your bitch queen clearly has expensive tastes, Hawke," Varric told him.

Arian did not say anything for a while. Brown eyes slid downwards fearfully. The mabari did not look ill…_yet_. There was nothing like a distinctive piece of random jewellery to spark an uncomfortable memory…fleeing burning lands laid waste by darkspawn…His brother's corpse, bloodied and crushed almost unrecognisable to his own family…A mother's weeping…and the sweep of leathery wings; of a sulphurous breath…and a promise made almost a decade ago…unfulfilled…_Aw…crap…_

"Hawke?" Varric prompted him.

His gaze unable to leave his beloved pet, Arian gulped nervously. "Fetch the Glow Worm, Varric…" he managed in a shaky voice.

"Eh? Why? If Anora's swallowed something she shouldn't have, I'm sure in the fullness of time, it'll simply pass…"

"I don't' think you _quite _understand," Arian grimaced. "This _might _be an emergency."

"I'm thinking we might be working at a loss here," Varric said unhappily, eyeing the dog suspiciously now.

"An understatement," Arian's grimace deepened. "I'm pretty sure my dog's just swallowed a _witch…_"

-oo-

"'Fess up, Hawke…" A coffee-coloured arm slid across Arian's shoulder, breasts pressing oh-so-casually up against his side. "Admit defeat. You've lost us, haven't you? Again?"

"Every damn bit of coast and hillside looks the same to me…" Hawke muttered darkly. "But I think we're close."

"Ooh…" the pirate sang mocking her leader's sense of direction, "His Champion senses are _tingling_…Can you smell the Dalish?"

"Smells like shrubbery to me…with a hint of dead fish…" Arian told her, distracted by a last study of the map before refolding it to stow into his pack.

"Not Dalish, Hawke…" the city Guard Captain hoisted her shield further up her arm as she passed by, accidentally clipping the pirate on a multiple-pierced ear. "That would be the _Eau de Bilge_ Pirate Isawhora is wearing."

"You know, I should make you regret that particular statement…" Isabella purred into Arian's ear, ignoring the Captain Man-Hands. Mashing her upper body into Arian's side, she leant ever so slightly forward; well aware it gave a better view of her assets. Arian sighed.

"Can we just keep going?" he rolled his eyes at her. "The sooner we get my horrible death by witch over, the better…"

"Well, it can't be any more horrible than attempting to extract a cheap bit of jewellery from the inside of a mabari," Anders groused from the back of the group. By consensus, the Mage had been forced to travel downwind. Mabari bile might be prized by some in the making of rare and desirable perfumes for over-privileged ladies, but soaked into duck feathers and musty Mage robes; it just smelled like…well, like dog vomit, actually.

"You could have changed out of those filthy _Mage _robes," the elf threw a glare over his shoulder at the unhappy Mage.

"Oh, like I was given any _time…_" Anders grumbled.

"You've been wearing the same outfit for the last nine years," Isabella pointed out, in case anyone had forgotten.

"It's a signature piece," Anders informed them. "I'll have you know I…"

"Oh! Hey guys! I think I found the Dalish!" Arian announced; his voice relieved but strained.

"You sure about that?" Varric asked.

"Yep. Quite sure," Arian laughed nervously. "See this arrow pointed into my neck here…look at the fletching, the shape of the arrow head. Clearly…_Dalish…_"

Arian raised his hands slowly as more elven hunters materialised out of the surrounding countryside. _I'm just a harmless human…really…please stop looking at my big sword and my heavily armoured companions…_Beside him, Anora sat heavily in the dirt, twisting into a half circle to scratch busily at the base of an ear. When she finished, she cast a gaze upwards at her master that clearly told him; _Yeah…I knew they were there…Serves you right for shoving a Mage down my throat…_

-oo-

"So…let me get this straight," Varric sidled up to Hawke, keeping his voice low while the weird little elf did her weird little elf dance about the stone altar up ahead. "You were supposed to deliver this amulet to the Keeper nearly a decade ago, but you forgot?"

"I got a little side-tracked…" Arian reminded him.

"Uh-huh. And this amulet belonged to Flemeth…_The Flemeth? _Legend. Scary Witch Thief…_"_

"_Really_ side-tracked…"

"…eater of children, demonic immortal, given long life in exchange for her soul…?"

"You make it sound so much more unpleasant like that…" Arian complained. Noting Varric's raised eyebrows, he sighed again. If this was going to end up in one of the dwarf's trashy novels, he decided, he wanted a _fifteen_ percent cut of profits. "Have I told you I've been a tad busy lately?" he shrugged. "Blood Mages, possessed Templars…crazy horned guys burning the city…not to mention that underground trip thingy that made _Amell _family reunions look like a teddy-bears' picnic…"

Arian's voice trailed away at the odd warbling noise at the edge of the cliff, both men transferring their gazes to the slender, jerking figure. The weird little green elf appeared to be experiencing violent spasms, her dance around the altar becoming more vigorous and distressingly, inhumanly…_flexible_ as time passed.

"You know," Isabella sidled up to the two of them. "I have a tonic that could fix that little problem for her…" the pirate positioned herself beside Arian, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Though…" she added more appreciatively, "we _could _also sell her to the _Blooming Rose…_"

"How long do you think this is likely to take, Hawke?" Aveline asked. "I have an important appointment I can't miss."

"Guardsman Donnic sharpening your sword, Captain Man Hands?" Isabella quipped. "I'd hate you to miss _that_…"

"Will the both of you shut up…and for the Maker's sake Anders…_downwind_!" Arian stared along with the others while the weird little elf leapt up on the altar, jumping up and down and waving her arms like a demented, half-possessed windmill. "Varric. Go ask if she's okay."

"You're the amulet bearer," Fenris reminded him. "You should take responsibility."

"Me? I was just supposed to hand it over. My job's done as far as I'm concerned. No one said anything about _value adding…_"

"She does appear to be rather…unhappy," Anders pointed out.

"Oh wait, she's stopped."

Shoulders slumped, the weird green little elf stumped her way towards the group, disappointment clearly writ across her delicate, tattooed face. "I don't understand it," she told them in a small, dejected voice. "Nothing seems to be working."

"Do you need to sacrifice something?" Isabella asked, merely out of interest. "A small, unwilling goat...A virgin perhaps?"

"Ohhhh…!" the small green weird elf's tiny face lit up. "That might work…but…where would we find a virgin, do you think? At this time of the day too?"

Hawke's companions stepped as one, away from him as the pirate pointed two fingers at Arian behind his back, mouthing _here's one we prepared earlier…_

"Look," Arian ignored his companions, "small weird green elf with pretty eyes…"

"Yes!"

"Maybe we should check it…the amulet, I mean" he suggested, purposely avoiding looking at his _dog_. "It might have been damaged by time, or…it might not be the right one…maybe." This time he did look towards the mabari; busily gnawing on the skull of some hapless adventurer that had been claimed by one of the many evil creatures that lived on this mountain. _Spiders…spiders falling magically from the sky…random, self-animating corpses…possessed beavers…that would do it…_The mountain was cursed.

The amulet was handed over, Arian taking it by its chain between two reluctant, leather-clad fingers. It certainly _looked _like the amulet Flemeth had given them in Lothering all those years ago. It was so ugly, he doubted anyone would have bothered trying to reproduce it, or steal it…Curious, he walked up to the altar, removed a dagger from his ankle sheath and carefully and slowly prised the amulet apart. The two sides came away with a gentle click. As it opened, a soft glittery grey dust poured from inside onto the surface of the stone, slightly gummed with dried dog saliva.

"Ooh, quick; stand back!" the small green weird elf commanded urgently. Placing her mage staff upon the dust, she exclaimed. "Ohhh…_hai_!" She did her little dance again. Waved her arms about. Yelled, "_booyaa…_!" Still, nothing happened.

"Well…" Arian exhaled a long breath. "That was a bit anti-climactic…Anyone for a pint down at the Hanged Man?"

"Best idea you've had all day, Hawke."

"As long as the Mage doesn't sit at our table."

"Oi! I heard that!"

"I should hope so; he just screamed it in your ear, 'Glow Worm."

"Hm…" Arian said thoughtfully, scratching at his chin. "Hey, Ferris!" he called the white-haired battle elf. "I was thinking. This Denerim fellow of yours…"

"_Danarius,_" Fenris corrected grimly. "And it's _Fenris…_Are you planning to hand me over to that monster after all? Because I _warn _you…"

"No, no, no. Fenrir…I was thinking…Minrathous is nice this time of year. Lovely birds…and those drinks out of coconuts with the umbrellas in them…I _love _those…"

"Sounds like you have a plan, Hawke," Varric said, the light of gold sparkling in his eager eyes already.

"Yeah," Arian told them. "We go to Tevinter…We kick this damned Arius' arse, strip him of his assets, play merry hell with the local government, then head over to the…I don't know…the Anderfels to lay low for a bit…Hey, Forrest!" he called out to Fenris, who glowered at his name being purposely mangled again. "Do they do those coconut things to go…?"

"I wouldn't have a clue, _Pigeon_…"

"_Wait_!" Anders exclaimed, skidding to a halt alongside. "You…what about your promise to help me lift the yoke of oppression from the Mages in this city!" he added unhappily.

Arian clapped a hand onto a shoulder-full of soggy feathers, "Yeah…" hastily removing it to wipe it on Isabella's…headscarf, as it appeared to be the largest piece of material the pirate wore. "Good luck with that. See, I've just helped you. I gave you encouragement. Can't ask more than that." As he turned to go, his gaze fell onto the tiny Dalish elf. "Hey, cute little weird green elf…"

"Yes!"

"How would you like to come with?" he asked her.

"Will there be crackers?"

"Could be."

"Yes please! I do like crackers, especially those wafer-thin ones with the little black seeds on them. Do you know the ones I mean?"

The group had been moving now, passing under the remains of a ruined stone arch. While the Mage and white-haired elf argued about _priorities_ there was a terrific rumble of thunder above their heads. Lightning crackled from a cloudless sky; a sudden wind whipped mercilessly, tearing at their clothes and hair. The very mountain trembled beneath their feet. Clutching at each other, the sound of what seemed to be distant laughter could be heard over the wailing gales that tossed the companions against the mountain side. Except it was not the cackling of an elderly witch, but of a young woman; deep, throaty and slightly seductive…and then it was gone, the sudden absence of weather louder and more oppressive than the wind had been.

"Did you just…?" Arian began, stopping uncertainly.

"Ooh…someone's had their happy beans today," the weird little green elf said thoughtfully.

"Hm…" Arian mused. He began turning back towards the top of the mountain, stopping part-way. Anora came trotting down the mountain path, a long, weathered, ivory-coloured and time-stained object clamped firmly between her jaws. As she passed, Arian could see it was the jaw bone of something…a bird? No, it had too many teeth…something from an animal that had once been carnivorous, judging by the size of the long, jagged fang at one end. He shrugged…It wasn't important. Anora picked up all sorts of weird stuff_…_Continuing along the mountain path, he whistled a merry tune, dreaming of coconuts, paper umbrellas and a life without fuss, once all that business with Dernoubiness was completed.

It would be nice, for a change.

-oo-


End file.
